


last resort

by noahczerns



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahczerns/pseuds/noahczerns
Summary: “I already told you, man, those life drawing classes pay a lot for modelling,” Kuroo said after Daichi rambled about his woes again.“And I already told you, I’m not getting naked for money.”





	last resort

**Author's Note:**

> so i was writing another fic and i had the idea of artist!suga and then this happened??????? somehow??

Daichi is sick to death of applying for jobs. He’s sick to death of going to interviews, coming out the other side thinking he’s absolutely nailed it, only to get an email a few days later beginning with the dreaded words  _”We’re sorry to inform you…”_. He’s sick of budgeting and he’s sick of never having any money left over for himself. He knew this was what he was letting himself in for when he became a student two years ago, but he hadn’t known it would be so goddamn hard to get a shitty job in a café or something like that. 

Not only is Daichi sick of this, but his friends are getting sick of him complaining about it too. He can’t blame them, he lets his mouth run every time he gets the chance because he can’t damn well tell the interviewers how desperate he is.

“I already told you, man, those life drawing classes pay a lot for modelling,” Kuroo said after Daichi rambled about his woes _again_.

“And I already told you, I’m not getting naked for money.” Daichi was adamant that he would never sink that low since the first time that Kuroo had mentioned it to him.

“It’s not that bad. I’ve done it a few times, you basically get paid to sit and do nothing. You’re doing that right now and not getting anything for it.”

“There’s one big difference, Kuroo,” said Daichi, almost into in his hands.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“I’m wearing clothes right now.”

Kuroo chuckled and knocked him on the shoulder. “Come on, just try it. One time. Get the money and go.”

“Exactly how does Kenma feel that you got naked in front of strangers?” asked Daichi, diverting his request and slowly removing his face from his hands.

“He was fine with it. You don’t have to let them see anything, just sit with your legs crossed or something.” Kuroo leant in close so that Daichi couldn’t avoid his gaze. “How much do you miss being able to drink something other than this?” he pointed at Daichi’s sad pint of water on the bar, looking even more miserable next to Kuroo’s glistening pint of beer. Kuroo had offered to buy him one too, but he had refused.

Daichi groaned. Iced water was something else on the list of what he was getting sick of. “I can’t believe you’re talking me into this.”

Kuroo patted him on the back rather hard, causing Daichi to sputter a little. “I knew you would come around! You’re lucky, with a body like yours, they might pay you a little extra.”

Daichi wanted to dump his sad, cold, iced glass of water onto Kuroo’s head. He considered it for a moment, then he mumbled, “Where do I apply?”

“Did I hear that right?” A voice boomed in from Daichi’s right. “Daichi’s agreed to model?”

Daichi looked up to see Bokuto’s toothy grin and sharp eyes.

“Hell yeah, he did!” Kuroo called from behind him, his stool screeched on the wooden floor as he stood. Daichi heard the distinct sound of palms hitting palms as the two of them high-fived and he kept his eyes down on the bar, wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess and wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

After Kuroo and Bokuto finished teasing him, which he was not going to be forgiving them for any time soon, Kuroo finally gave him the details along with a thumbs up and a side smile. He was going to regret this.

His “modelling session” as the lady on the phone had called it, was next week. Every time Daichi thought about it, he felt his chest lurch. He wasn’t exactly body conscious, he worked out and was pretty toned, as Kuroo had so nicely pointed out, but a group of strangers staring at him and _drawing_  him was something different altogether. He tried to put it to the back of his mind and think about the hefty paycheck he would be getting for it afterwards. Kuroo hadn’t been lying when he said it was a lot, just one session would be enough to last him a while, and he didn’t plan to go back for a second anyway.

The day of his session arrived and Daichi could barely stomach his breakfast. Every time he caught a glimpse of himself he thought of how those people in the class today would be looking at him, analysing him. He texted Kuroo for some last-minute advice.

**DAICHI:** _How do you stop thinking about them looking at you??_

**KUROO:** _Idk man I kind of liked it_

As helpful as always. Daichi wondered why he thought he would get anything useful out of Kuroo anyway. He was about to do some naked modelling, so clearly, every single last one of his inhibitions were long gone.

**KUROO:** _Good luck bro!!!!!!!!!_

Why Kuroo needed so many exclamation marks, he would never know. Daichi thanked him for the oh so useful advice and forced some cereal down his throat. He didn’t fancy his stomach rumbling being the only sound in the class.

Taking one last painful look in the mirror before leaving, Daichi made his way to what he was expecting to be two hours of literal hell. _Think of the money, Daichi._

When he arrived at the class, none of the students were there. He was thankful; he was rather certain he would have thrown up his cereal if he had seen a group of them waiting outside of the classroom. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He knocked on the door and hoped that someone would answer.

The door opened, and a woman that he could only assume was the professor of the class was looking at him, expecting an explanation for his arrival.

“I’m – I’m –” Daichi’s nearly choked on his own saliva. “I’m here to do the modelling thing.”

“Oh, yes, come in.” She pulled the door further to let Daichi walk through. “There’s a room at the back where you can change. There should be a robe you can borrow in there too. The class starts in ten minutes.”

Daichi nodded quickly and thanked her. The professor went back to her desk at the front and Daichi headed straight for the door at the back. When he closed the door behind him, his heart was doing over time. He wasn’t sure if he was cut out for this.

The room was small with only a table, a chair and a hook on the back of the door with the robe the professor had spoken of hanging from it. The robe itself was white and Daichi could only hope it was as clean as it looked. He placed his backpack on the table, he didn’t even need it, he wasn’t sure why he had dragged it along with him. Some form of comfort, probably. Daichi took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then began to unbutton his shirt. He slid the shirt off his arms. It wasn’t so bad. He grabbed the robe off the hook and wrapped it around himself before following through with taking off his trousers and underwear. Now he was completely naked bar the robe and he felt every inch of his skin that wasn’t covered. He took another deep breath. It’d be fine. The students were used to this kind of thing, they wouldn’t bat an eyelash. He hoped.

He sat on the chair and tried out a couple of sitting positions until he found one that was both comfortable and left the most important things to the imagination.

The ten minutes was almost up. He forced himself up off the chair and pushed open the door. The room was still empty, bar the professor, thank God. She looked up at the sound of the door.

“Sit there, please.” She pointed her finger at a lonesome chair sitting square in the middle of the front of the room.

Daichi gulped as he sat. He was growing rather attached to the robe and he did not want to take it off any time soon. A bell rang overhead and Daichi winced. Classes were starting.

As the students began to pile into the classroom, Daichi cursed Kuroo for talking him into this damn thing in the first place. None of them took much notice of him as they walked in and found their seats, but he still felt every glance skirt over him as they walked by like poison seeping into his skin. Once they were all seated, Daichi risked a look over the sea of students in front of him taking out their sketchbooks and pencils. To his relief, he didn’t recognise any of them. He didn’t know anyone that was taking the life drawing class anyway, he didn’t know why he had been worried about that.

The professor coughed and Daichi whipped his head around to look at her. She gestured at his robe. Daichi’s eyes widened and heat rose in his face. He nodded slowly, turned away and slipped the robe off his shoulders and then past his crossed legs until it fell over the stool. He did not stand up to remove it from beneath him. No way in hell was he doing that.

All he wanted to do was squeeze his eyes shut until this damn thing was over with. That might make him look weird. He forced his eyes open and fixed his gaze on the wall at the back. It was covered in artwork, obviously created by students, past and present alike, but he could not focus on a single one of them. It looked like a blur of colour.

The only sound in the room was the incessant scratching of pencils on paper. It was odd to think that they were drawing _him_. Thirty or more different portraits of him. Weird.

Barely any time had passed and he was already losing feeling in his butt. Daichi, ungracefully, attempted to shift his position without compromising _things_ but eventually gave in to the numbing when there were murmured complaints at his movements.

After an unknown amount of time (he should’ve worn a watch, damn it) he had completed a lap of the room with his eyes, looking at everything in detail. All there was left to look at was the students, who he really did not watch to look at. He had taken quick glimpses at them as they walked in, but he hadn’t _looked_. They were looking unbearably hard at him, why shouldn’t he look back?

He started with the front row.

The front row was filled with girls. All pretty, he guessed, but nothing he was particularly interested in looking at for the remaining whatever the hell time was left. He moved onto the second row, there were a couple of good-looking guys here or there, but still nothing that particularly caught his eye. There was only one row left. Damn. He started from the left, another girl, who was scribbling furiously on her paper. He dreaded to think what he looked like on that, possibly ripped up, piece of paper. Next to her, was a tall, broad guy with his hair kept tightly in a bun. He looked like the epitome of a stereotypical male art student. His eyes drifted over to the seat next to him. Daichi gripped tightly onto the chair to balance himself. He blinked a few times, convinced his eyes were deceiving him and creating a mirage to save him from the unrelenting pain he was in.

This guy was _gorgeous_. He felt like a 14-year-old girl thinking that, but it was true. Silver hair swept over his forehead like moon dust. His chin rested against one of his hands, looking extremely delicate, whilst the other hand glided across his paper. Daichi was transfixed.

The guy tilted his head at his paper, bit his lip, then looked up at Daichi. Daichi had _not_  been expecting this guy to look at him. Which was stupid as hell, since he was the model and he was the artist in this excruciatingly terrible situation. In shock, Daichi held his gaze for a few seconds, taking in his brown, almost golden eyes. Though he could feel his cheeks reddening again, the guy looked back down at his sketchbook again much sooner than Daichi would have liked. Daichi swallowed nervously, unable to remove his stare from him. He noticed that there was a mark under his eye; it stood out dark against his pale skin. The moonlight to his moon dust hair, he thought. Since when did he think in poetics? This whole thing was making him lose his mind. _Damn you, Kuroo._  

The moon dust boy, that what he was calling him now apparently, made to lift his gaze up again. Daichi flicked his eyes away just in time to avoid another few seconds of awkward eye contact. He’d have liked to look into his eyes again, though.

Daichi’s eyes were dry and he forced himself to blink; he had gotten himself into that awful mindset where he was aware that he _needed_  to blink. He started at the wall behind the moon dust boy, trying to appear as blank faced as possible. He knew it wasn’t working. His face was hot and his blinking was completely off, not natural in the slightest.

He wanted to risk another look. He slid his stare down the wall until it reached the head of silver hair again. Content that he was being looked at too, he allowed his eyes to travel further, to his nose and lips. It didn’t last long. The guy scratched his cheek and Daichi chickened out, quickly moving his eyes back to the wall.

Even if his skin was reddening past his neck and down to his chest for everyone to see, this was the best distraction he had. A rather nice one, he had to admit.

Daichi passed the rest of the _dragging_  two hours by chancing fleeting glances at the guy with silver hair and rather pretty hands at the back. He can’t remember ever calling hands pretty.

The same bell that had signalled the start of class rang again and the students began to pack away almost immediately. Daichi had no idea what to do, yet again. Was he supposed to sit there? Wait until they were all gone? He still didn’t fancy standing up and awkwardly putting on his robe, probably accidentally flashing everyone, including the pretty one. He remained seated and watched them file out of the door the same way they had come. The silver-haired guy said something to the one with his hair in a bun, but they were too far away for Daichi to hear a word of it. They hauled their bags over their shoulders, then made their way to the door together. Before disappearing from Daichi’s sight, the silver-haired boy looked over his shoulder and caught Daichi’s eye.

He was going to have to do this again.

_Damn it, Kuroo._

-

Suga can’t decide whether this is the best or worst life drawing class of his life.

He’d gotten used to the sight of nude models by now; it took him a few classes to be able to actually look at them without feeling a wave of embarrassment for the both of them, but it was half-way through the year, and it was just a part of the class.

It was easier when the models weren’t _disgustingly_  attractive.

Where did they even get this guy from? No one in their school looked _that_  good.

Suga rested his cheek in his hand, half to hide the flush that was rising in it, half because he’d completely forgotten what to _do_  with his hand. He looked down at the sketch on his paper, it couldn’t compare to the real thing sat just metres in front of him.

He felt like he was back in his first life drawing class, unable to look at the model for more than a few seconds. His work was suffering for it. His body was well-built, muscular, his arms were _nice_ , but Suga couldn’t get himself to stare long enough to take in the details without feeling his throat seize up and his cheeks get pinker than they already were.

Throughout the class, Suga thought he had caught the guy staring at him a few times. But that was impossible. It was just his mind running away from him, he convinced himself.

When the class ended, he couldn’t decide if he was glad that it was over or if he wanted another two hours of it.

Whilst they were packing up, he turned to Asahi and kept his voice as quiet as possible, “Have you got a minute? Do you know that guy?” He gestured to the model with his eyes.

“I haven’t seen him before. I have to go, I’m meeting Noya. Oikawa might know him, though.” Asahi replied, looking apologetic.

Suga suppressed a groan. He did _not_  want to talk to Oikawa about this. “Okay. Thanks.”

Suga knew the obvious thing to do would be to just walk up to the guy, make some small talk, maybe ask his name. Instead, he left the class, took one last glimpse at the painfully attractive model, and hoped he would be braver than he was.

Except, he couldn’t let it go. He wanted to know what his name was, and the only way he had any chance of finding that out was talking to Oikawa, as he was a regular model for their class, and probably knew everyone else who modelled as well.

He had another hour between this class and his next one. He had enough time. Suga swallowed his pride and made his way to where Oikawa was most often found on campus.

His intuition was right, and he spotted Oikawa, with his arm around a rather grumpy looking Iwaizumi, sat on the best couch in the student union. Suga was not looking forward to this.

It did not take long for Oikawa to notice him approach. “Sugawara-san! What brings you here?”

Suga sighed heavily and let his bag fall off his shoulder as he took a seat in the much less comfortable couch opposite them. “I need your help,” he mumbled.

Oikawa grinned wildly and leant forward, tapping a finger on his ear. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” He very clearly had.

Suga resisted the intense urge to roll his eyes. He could not understand why Iwaizumi voluntarily spent so much time with this guy. “You know most of the people that do modelling for the life drawing class I’m in, right?”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Suga looked up at the ceiling sheepishly. “Well… There was this one, today…” His cheeks were reddening again.

“You thought they were cute, didn’t you?” Oikawa was smiling from ear to ear. Suga hid his face in his hands. “Say no more. What did they look like?”

Suga reluctantly prised his hands from his face. “Dark hair, dark eyes… um… he had nice arms?” Oikawa was evidently enjoying this. Suga, on the other hand, was not.

“A name doesn’t spring to mind.” Oikawa stroked his chin. “He must be new.”

Suga’s heart sank. It must have shown on his face.

“Fret not, my friend. I’ll find out who this handsome fellow is for you.”

“No, no. You don’t have to do that.” Suga shook his head furiously. The last thing he needed was Oikawa mentioning _something_  to this guy before he had even said a word to him.

Oikawa waved him off. “It’s what friends are for.”

Iwaizumi snorted beside him.

Oikawa turned and looked at him with a confused expression. “What is it, Iwa-chan?”

“Nothing.”

Oikawa looked back at Suga and smiled. “I’ll let you know when I find out who he is.”

He didn’t say _if_. Suga knew he didn’t need to.

-

Daichi could not believe he was already considering doing the stupid modelling thing again just because there was an attractive guy in the class. This whole thing was ridiculous.

It had been two days since then, and Kuroo and Bokuto wanted to meet with him to squeeze out every last detail. Daichi knew what he was letting himself in for, but he had some money in his pocket for once in his life, and he wanted a second opinion about this moon dust boy.

When he arrived at the bar, Kuroo and Bokuto were already there, deep in a conversation about God know’s what. Daichi was never sure if he even wanted to know. He sat down in the empty seat beside Bokuto and finally ordered something that wasn’t iced water.

“Yo! The model himself has arrived!” Bokuto punched Daichi’s shoulder. Daichi rubbed the spot where his fist had made contact, not trying to hide his pain. Bokuto was oblivious.

“Bro! How was it?” Kuroo leant forward onto the bar, his face turned towards Daichi, an eyebrow raised and his mouth split into a grin.

“Just as humiliating as I had expected,” said Daichi.

Bokuto barked out a laugh.

Kuroo shrugged. “The money’s good though, right?”

Daichi couldn’t disagree, he was here, after all, drinking something other than water. Daichi took a large gulp of his drink. He was going to need it. “Do you know anyone in the class?”

“Nah, I never really stopped to talk. Oikawa probably does though. He’s their regular.”

_Oikawa_. He was sure he’d heard that name passed around before.

“Spotted something you like, eh?” Bokuto nudged him in the ribs.

“Did you? Huh?” Kuroo pressed, one eyebrow raised.

Daichi rubbed his temples. “Maybe.”

Kuroo slammed his hand on the counter, making the server give them a warning look. “Oooooh boy!”

Bokuto laughed again. “I hope you left some thing’s to their imagination!”

That set Kuroo off too, and now they were both laughing uncontrollably, leaving Daichi to grab yet another large mouthful of his drink.

Once their laughter eventually faded, Kuroo said, “You have to do it again, bro. Talk to him. Get his number. The whole shebang.”

Daichi wondered, yet again, why he ever came to these two for advice.

The next morning, against his own better judgement and with a pounding headache, Daichi arranged to have another “modelling session”.

-

Suga soon found that working on his sketch was proving just as difficult as it had been when he was sitting in the class. In the class, he had managed to get the model’s face down and the outline of his body, all that was left was the shading. Suga had never found shading particularly difficult, it was the most fun and relaxing part of drawing for him, but as he scratched his pencil against the drawn lines of the model’s curves and muscles and the sharp lines of his face, his mind drifted to his mental image of the real thing. He looked down at his drawn version of the model’s face. There was something off about it that he couldn’t put his finger on; it just wasn’t matching up to the face he remembered. Then again, he could’ve been wrong, as he barely looked at the model for more than a moment before he felt his face heat up. There was no way he could’ve memorised all the details.

Suga sighed and put his pencil down. He checked his phone; he was still yet to receive an update from Oikawa. He wanted to ask how his little investigation, or as Oikawa had put it, his investi _gay_ tion, was going. Yet, he knew that if he did, Oikawa would never let him forget his desperation to know more about the model. Suga threw his phone onto his bed and resigned to waiting, and hoping, that he would see the same handsome face at the front of the class on Wednesday afternoon.

As luck would have it, he did.

Suga nearly stopped in his tracks when he recognised the dark head of hair and the tanned body set against the white robe sat in the same chair as the week before. Swallowing thickly, he let his face drop to the floor, hiding the obvious blush that was intensifying in his cheeks. Asahi was in front of him, and Suga had neglected to mention the “crush” he had on the model. He refused to acknowledge that it was a crush, he didn’t even know his name, but he couldn’t think of a better word for it either. Infatuation sounded creepy, and he couldn’t think of anything else. From his narrowed view, he saw the model look his way, then quickly turn his face to the side. That was odd.

Suga made a beeline for his usual seat next to Asahi. When he reached it, Asahi had already taken his seat.

Asahi looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Is something wrong? You seem a little antsy.”

“No, I’m – I’m fine.” Suga shook his head and put his bag on the floor, sat down, then retrieved his sketchbook and pencil case from inside the bag. One of his legs bounced up and down beneath his desk, causing his pencil case to slide every time his knee hit the underside of the table. Asahi stared at Suga’s frantically bouncing leg.

“Are you sure?”  Asahi’s voice was quieter this time as those around them began to work.

Suga bit down on his lip and kept his head fixed down, looking at his sketchbook. “Yes,” he hissed.

“Okay.”

Suga had no idea how he was going to survive two hours of this. He barely managed it last week. Sure, he had imagined and hoped he would see the same model when he walked into class today, but he hadn’t thought about what he would do if he actually did. All he had to was draw, he told himself. He took a pencil out of his pencil case and began tapping it against his desk. A few minutes later, something hit his ankle, hard. He looked down to see Asahi’s foot retreating to under his own desk. Suga guessed he deserved that.

Twenty minutes passed and Suga was still yet to look up past his desk. He was wasting time, he knew it. He had a certain amount of drawings he needed to do for this class, and he wasn’t going to fulfil it if he kept going on like this. He wasn’t going to fail a class just because the model happened to be possibly the most attractive guy he had ever seen. Forcing himself with all his might, Suga lifted his gaze from his sketchbook and up to the front of the class.

The model was just as handsome as he remembered (he was going to punch Oikawa later for subconsciously making him use that word). He was in a different pose this time, obviously, but he looked just as overwhelming as he had done the week before. Suga’s throat dried. Strands of his jet-black hair fell onto his forehead in disarray, but it wasn’t long enough to cover his eyes. With this pose, his arms were the focus. Suga cursed himself and his thing for arms.

Feeling slightly daring and ignoring the throbbing behind his ribs, Suga tried to catch his eye. His attention appeared to be elsewhere, the art on the wall, no doubt. Then, his brown irises (darker than Suga’s own, he noted) shifted until they met Suga’s. Suga almost gulped, but he held his gaze. For about three seconds. His nerves got the better of him and he wrenched his eyes away, back down to the safe space of his desk. His heart pounded in his ears. He ran his free hand through his hair as he regained his composure and attempted to concentrate on what he was meant to be drawing. He still didn’t even have an outline. Taking a deep breath, he put his pencil down on the paper. He hoped that one brief look was enough to see him through an entire portrait, he wasn’t sure his heart would be able to take another glimpse, let alone a prolonged stare.

Slowly, his drawing began to take shape. He still couldn’t get the face right, though. He knew there was only one way to fix that. He had no idea whether he would get a chance like this again, today could be the model’s last day. So, throwing the condition of his heart under the bus, Suga risked another glance at the model, looking straight at the features of his face. The first thing he noticed was his jawline; it was sharp and well sculpted while the rest of his face was soft. Not taking his eyes off the model, Suga began to sketch this onto his drawing. It wasn’t so daunting when the model wasn’t looking straight at him. Despite his attention being elsewhere, Suga still flit his eyes back and forth between the model and the wall behind him, just on the off chance he /did/ look back at him again.

To Suga’s disappointment, the model did not look at him again. The bell for the end of class rang without a second’s more eye contact, and Suga was yet to build up the courage to even think about considering talking to him after class. Suga took one last despairing look at his half-finished portrait, then closed his sketchbook and slipped it into his bag along with his pencil case. Asahi was already at the door along with the rest of his class; Suga vaguely remembered Asahi mentioning something about being busy again today. Suga stood and his gaze was pulled to the front centre of the room. The model was attempting, extremely ungracefully, to slip his robe back on without standing or uncrossing his legs. Suga hid a giggle behind his hand.

“Hey!” A familiar voice called from the doorway. Suga turned to see Oikawa’s head peeping around the door. Oikawa winked at Suga and headed straight for the model, who seemingly hadn’t noticed the intrusion. Suga’s eyes widened. His heart beat ferociously in his chest, both with anticipation and /regret/ for ever bringing Oikawa into this.

Oikawa tapped the model on the shoulder. “You’re Daichi right? Kuroo’s friend?”

It was just like Oikawa to throw Suga straight into the deep end. Suga cursed that pretty face of his. It took Suga a second to process that the model’s name was _Daichi_. Finally, the face he had been dreaming about for a week had a name.

Daichi swivelled in his chair, pulling the robe up over his shoulders. “Yeah?” His voice was deeper than Suga had expected.

“Good.” Oikawa smiled at him. Then, he pointed at Suga. “My friend over there, Suga, he’s been having some trouble drawing you.”

Suga’s cheeks burst with heat. Oikawa made a _come here_  gesture with his hand. Reluctantly, Suga slugged his bag over his shoulder and obliged, hoping his blush wasn’t as obvious as he feared it was.

Suga was going to kill Oikawa for this.

“I’m sorry…?” Daichi began, clearly uncomfortable.

Suga shook his head quickly, far too quickly. “No, it’s not your fault. I just – uh” –  Suga scratched the back of his head – “It takes me a while to get the hang of different people’s bodies.” What the hell was he saying? It wasn’t true at all. He really was going to kill Oikawa later. He sent him a death glare out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh… ok. That makes sense I guess?” Daichi replied. He finally pulled the robe around himself. Suga did his best to mask his dismay. “Can I do anything to help?”

Suga bit his lip. He had no idea what to say. He lifted his eyes to look at Daichi; there was genuine concern in his dark eyes. He was so much _more_  close up. Suga felt his throat dry again.

“I have an idea,” Oikawa stated, smiling widely. Suga did not want to hear it, but he knew he was going to anyway. “Daichi could give you some extra sessions, right?” He nudged Daichi’s shoulder with his own. “On the house?”

Daichi’s mouth fell open. Suga had to snap himself out of staring at his lips. “I – I guess I could do that.”

“Great!” Oikawa beamed and slyly raised an eyebrow at Suga. “I have to go now, I’m a busy man.” He waved and waltzed out of the room. With the rest of the students gone too, Daichi and Suga were left alone. Suga shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You don’t have to do what he said,” Suga reassured him, “He gets ahead of himself sometimes.”

Daichi laughed quietly, sending Suga’s heart _smack_  against his ribcage. “I noticed. I wouldn’t mind doing it, though. But I would prefer to be clothed.” He laughed again and Suga found himself laughing too. Oikawa wouldn’t be pleased to hear that they were laughing at him when he told him later.

“That’s okay. It’s your face I’ve been having the most trouble with, anyway,” said Suga, the redness in his face deepening with every word he said.

“When did you want to, uh, draw me?” Daichi asked, fiddling with the cords of his robe.

Suga tried to remember his schedule; he did not want to mess this up. He’d never hear the end of it from Oikawa if he had to miss meeting up with Daichi after all his hard work. “I’m free on Tuesday mornings?” He could not believe he was arranging to meet up with this guy.

“That works for me.” Daichi grinned.

-

Suga headed straight for where he knew that Oikawa would be, and would definitely _not_  be busy. He crept up behind him and slammed his hand sideways onto Oikawa’s head.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“Now you know the importance of _warnings_.”

-

Daichi left the class, fully clothed, feeling light-hearted and extremely confused. Had Kuroo said something to Oikawa without telling him first? He wouldn’t be surprised, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be annoyed, either. He’d think about that later.

_Suga_. That was the name of the boy with the hair like moon dust. He wanted to say it aloud, but he figured he’d look a bit of an idiot saying it as he walked across campus. His features were far prettier up close than what he had managed to make out from the back of the room. His nose, his eyes, the mark beneath this eye; Daichi was well and truly _gone_ , even if he refused to admit it, and he hadn’t even gotten to thinking about Suga’s voice yet.

He spotted Kuroo coming out of a building, jerking him out of his daydream of Suga. Daichi waved him over. Kuroo grinned at him and smacked him on the shoulder as he approached. “How was it today?” Kuroo asked.

“Did you talk to Oikawa?” Daichi wasted no time.

Kuroo tilted his head. “I might’ve mentioned something to him since I knew you wouldn’t.”

Daichi narrowed his eyes at him. “What did you say?”

“Just that you had your eye on some guy with silver hair.”

Daichi let out a sigh.

“What happened?”

“Oikawa came at the end of the class. He said that Suga needed some help with his drawing.” It was the first time Daichi said Suga’s name out loud.

“Suga? That’s his name, ey?” Kuroo nudged him with his fist. “Can’t say I’ve heard of him.”

“Oikawa… suggested I give him some extra sessions,” Daichi said quickly.

“Man! You said yeah, right? Tell me you aren’t that stupid.” 

Daichi hit Kuroo this time, not hard enough to hurt. “Yeah, I did.”

After recovering from Daichi’s punches, Kuroo swung his arm around Daichi’s shoulders. “Bokuto’s gonna love this.”

He did.

“I can’t believe you’re giving him private naked modelling sessions.”

“Bokuto I already said he just needs my face.”

-

Daichi was more nervous for his meeting with Suga than he had been for either of the modelling sessions. Well, maybe it was on the same level as the second time. At least this time he would be wearing more than a thin robe. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that it was going to be just the two of them. What if it was super awkward? All of these thoughts ran through Daichi’s mind the entire weekend, and they didn’t cease even when he was walking towards the student union where he had agreed to meet with Suga.

He spotted the back of Suga’s head as he approached; it stood out in the sea of black and brown hair, reflecting the light. Daichi hoped he hadn’t been waiting long.

“Hi,” Daichi said as he reached the table that Suga was sat at. His sketchbook was already laying on the table, closed, with barely enough room for anything else.

Suga’s head turned at the sound of his voice. He smiled as Daichi took the seat opposite him, causing Daichi to curl his hands into fists at his sides. “Hey, Daichi.”

His voice was just as soft and gentle as he remembered. Daichi returned his best smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” replied Suga, still smiling. “Thank you again for coming today, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem.” What he really wanted to say was, _it’s my pleasure._

“Right, then…” Suga sprawled his hands across the black sketchbook, then picked at the edges without opening it. “I don’t usually show people my work.” He bit his lip.

“Oh.” Truthfully, Daichi had been secretly looking forward to seeing how Suga had drawn him. “I can look away if you want me to.”

“Would you? No offence or anything, I’m just a bit – a bit shy about it.” Suga smile had grown wobblier and yet it still looked more stable than Daichi’s insides were feeling currently.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” said Daichi, turning to the side slightly in his chair. He wasn’t going to be able to stare at Suga’s face for the entire time, which was probably a good thing if he wanted to make a good impression.

“Thank you,” Suga replied. Daichi heard the sketchbook flip open, and he did his best to resist the urge to look at the paper out of the corner of his eye. There was a scratch as pencil lead scraped against paper.

“So, how do you know Oikawa?” asked Daichi. Small talk wasn’t his favourite, but they had to start somewhere.

Suga sighed loudly. “He’s my friend – I guess?”

“That’s not very convincing.” Daichi bit back a laugh.

“He can be a handful sometimes.”

“He seems to look out for you, though,” Daichi noted. If Suga had been shy about asking Daichi for this, then he was a good enough friend to take the initiative and do it for him.

“Hmm. Yeah, he just has a funny way of doing it.”

Kuroo and Bokuto flashed up in Daichi’s mind. “That sounds painfully familiar.”

“How so?”

“I didn’t decide to start modelling voluntarily, exactly,” Daichi admitted. He almost slouched in his chair to put his chin in his hands, then he remembered that wouldn’t be the best angle for Suga.

“Oh? I thought you were there because you loved the attention.” Suga was teasing him, and Daichi found it downright adorable.

Daichi rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his lips. “There aren’t that many jobs going around here. My friend Kuroo suggested it to me ages ago, and kept _pestering_  me about it until I gave in.” He wished he’d given in sooner, but he wasn’t going to tell Kuroo that.

Suga laughed, so much so that his nose scrunched up. “He’s modelled before, right? He was way more into it that you.” 

“Yeah, maybe that’s why he wanted me to try it so badly.”

“Well, the money isn’t bad either.”

“True. Would you do it?”

Suga seemed a little set back by the question. He coughed into the back of his hand. “Maybe if I was desperate. I prefer to be the one doing the drawing.” He smiled again. “Are you going to do it again?”

Daichi considered it. If it was the only way he would be able to see Suga again, then he, rather embarrassingly, wouldn’t even hesitate. He couldn’t lie to himself and say the second time wasn’t only to see Suga. “I don’t know, I’m not tomorrow.”

Either Daichi was seeing things, or Suga looked positively deflated at this news.

“Oh.” was all he said.

“Daichi!” Daichi heard one specific voice that he did not want to hear as he was sat opposite Suga. He scanned around the room for the source of the noise until his eyes fell on Bokuto, who was waving manically as he walked over, with Kuroo and Kenma in tow behind him.

Suga followed Daichi’s eyes and turned, then looked back at Daichi. “Someone you know?”

Daichi sighed. “Unfortunately.” He plastered a smile on his face as the three of them got closer.

Bokuto ran the last few steps and slapped an arm across Daichi’s shoulders so that his armpit was almost directly in Daichi’s face. “Is this who I think it is? Hey hey?”

Suga leant forward in his chair, strategically placing both of his arms across his sketchbook.

Daichi swallowed and felt a spike of heat in his cheeks.

“I’m Suga.” Suga smiled up at Bokuto, then at Kuroo and Kenma as they arrived seconds behind him. Kuroo had an almost apologetic look on his face as he smiled back and introduced himself, Bokuto and Kenma, whereas Kenma either had no idea what was happening in right front of his eyes, or he just didn’t care. One of Kenma’s hands was in Kuroo’s, whilst the other was firmly stuck to his phone. 

“Thought this was supposed to be naked modelling, eh Daichi?” Bokuto asked, raising his eyebrows at Daichi and then at Suga.

Suga’s face was pinker than it had looked moments ago. “N-no.”

“He just needs to draw my face now,” Daichi clarified, tapping a finger against the table.

“Oh, I _see._  Do you mind if I sit?” Daichi and Suga had no time to answer before Bokuto had already dragged a chair from a nearby table over and sat down on it. Kuroo leant his free hand on the top of the chair.

Daichi mouthed to Suga; _I’m so sorry._

Suga shook his head and smiled, making Daichi’s stomach flip.

“What’s Daichi’s body like to draw? Is it as big a pain in the ass as he is?” Bokuto asked.

“I think you will find _you_ are the pain in the ass,” Daichi retorted, though he couldn’t stop his face from reddening.

Suga laughed. “His body’s not too bad.” He looked down at his hands.

Daichi blinked at him, it was barely a compliment, but his chest still seized.

“Oho? Bokuto winked at Daichi, rather obviously, having no understanding of the word subtle. Luckily, Suga looked up after his dramatic gesture. Daichi thought about poking Bokuto in the leg under the table but thought better of it.

“You know,” Bokuto continued on, “We had to convince Daichi to do the modelling. I think he’s glad he listened to us now.”

“Oh really?” Suga asked, tilting his head to the side in intrigue. He looked adorable. Daichi wrenched his eyes away from the sight to give Kuroo a look that said simply, _help_.

Bokuto leant back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Oh, yeah. He definitely is. He thinks you’re -”

“We’re leaving!” Kuroo burst in, cutting Bokuto off completely. Bokuto looked up at him in confusion, but Kuroo lifted him up off the chair by his arm and pulled him away from the table. “See you later Daichi, bye Suga. It was nice to meet you.”

Bokuto protested but Kuroo shushed him and gave one last smile to Daichi and Suga as he took Bokuto with him and Kenma out of the building.

Suga stared at where Bokuto had sat seconds ago in disbelief. He turned to Daichi. “What was that about?”

“No idea,” Daichi lied.

Suga continued drawing for the next hour without any more intrusions. Daichi desperately wanted to see the results since he was concentrating and working so hard, but he respected Suga’s wishes and kept his eyes away from the paper on the table.

“This was really fun,” Suga said as he flipped the sketchbook closed. “You can look now.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about my friends earlier, though.” Daichi was still reeling from whatever Bokuto was about to say before Kuroo thankfully interrupted him.

“It’s fine, they seemed fun.” Suga smiled at him, then slid his sketchbook and pencil case into his bag.

“Did you finish the drawings?” Daichi asked. He wanted him to say no.

“Mostly. I’ve just got to fix them up a bit, but I should be able to do that on my own.”

Daichi tried to hide his disappointment. “I’m glad I could help.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot.” Suga stood and put his bag on his shoulder. He bit his lip. “I’ll... see you around?”

Daichi nodded, standing up too. He needed to say _something_ before Suga was out of his life forever. He didn’t want to resort to naked modelling _again._  This was his chance.

Suga turned to leave.

Daichi lightly grabbed Suga’s arm. “Wait.”

Suga turned his head back to look at him, his molten brown eyes catching the light. Daichi took a deep breath.

“Would you… maybe…” He should have thought about this before he opened his mouth. “Want to meet up, like, without the drawing and the modelling?” Daichi could barely meet Suga’s eyes. He let go of his arm.

“I’d like that.” Suga grinned. Daichi’s heart flailed.

“Like... a date?” Daichi winced, he felt like he was pushing his luck to the limit.

“Yeah. Like a date.”

 

 

\-- SIX MONTHS LATER --

 

 

“Oikawa’s coming too, right?” Daichi asked as he and Suga headed towards the bar that he had frequented many evenings with Kuroo and Bokuto, and now with Suga as well.

“Yeah,” Suga replied, “He’ll probably be late, though. I asked Asahi too, but he’s with Noya tonight.”

Daichi gripped tightly onto Suga’s hand as they approached the venue. The cool air conditioning hit their faces as soon as they crossed the threshold; it was a welcome reprieve from the hot summer air outside.

“Daichi! Suga-san!” Kuroo waved at them from the bar, his mouth split in his familiar grin. Bokuto was sat beside him and whipped his head around at the sound of Daichi’s name.

Suga beamed back and tugged at Daichi’s hand to pull him to them faster. Daichi willingly obliged, he’d follow Suga anywhere, even if it was to his two idiot best friends. Kuroo moved across a few seats to let Daichi and Suga sit between him and Bokuto and knocked his palm on Suga’s back as he sat.

“Hey.” There was no chance of Suga’s smile slipping off his face.

“How is my favourite model?” Bokuto said, too close to Daichi for comfort.

Daichi rolled his eyes. “I retired months ago.”

“He’s still my favourite, too, Bokuto,” Suga piped up, pressing a kiss to Daichi’s cheek.

Daichi’s cheeks flared with heat. “Shut up. Both of you.”

Suga laughed and bumped his shoulder against Daichi’s.

“You two are so cute it makes me sick.” Oikawa’s voice came from behind them. “It’s all thanks to my match-making skills, though.”

Daichi and Suga swivelled on their stools to see Oikawa cross his arms dramatically. He took the empty seat next to Kuroo.

“ _I_  was the one who asked for a date.” Daichi reminded both Oikawa and Suga.

“Neither of you would have spoken to each other if it wasn’t for me. I expect it to be mentioned in your wedding speech. Both of you,” Oikawa replied.

Daichi heart pounded at the word _wedding_ , but he couldn’t deny that that wasn’t true.

Suga shrugged; he obviously knew it too. “I’m not thanking you again, Oikawa.”

Bokuto was following the conversation intensely with his eyes, flitting back and forth between the three of them.

Oikawa gave Suga a sad look; his bottom lip protruded in a pout and his eyes as wide as possible. Suga stared straight back, unblinking, having learnt not to fall for his tricks anymore.

Kuroo nearly choked on his drink laughing. “You guys are all fucking idiots.”

Daichi wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [tumblr](http://sugakoush.tumblr.com) !!  
> im also doing things for [daisuga week](http://archiveofourown.org/series/768738) !!!


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